


Harry Potter and the Soul Recurrence

by Vessecora



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, F/M, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Minor Character Death, Multi, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Unspeakable Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vessecora/pseuds/Vessecora
Summary: A revelation in the heart of Gringotts Bank and dissent in the Ministry leads Harry Potter along a winding path of discovery and grief. But Harry is stubborn. And an Unspeakable. Using a long-forgotten ritual brought forth by the writings of the most unexpected person, Harry returns to the beginning of his eleventh year on this plane of existence.This time he would get it right.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 444





	1. Consequences of War

Chapter 1: 

A robed man sat at an ink-stained desk, reading a yellowed and delicate-looking scroll of parchment. The candlelight flickered over the desk and the hooded Unspeakable. He carefully rolled the scroll up and placed it into a scroll case, which immediately shrank to one third of its previous size. 

Harry Potter sat up straight, stretching his back, steeling himself for what was to come. Memories and anxieties hounded him, despite the support of the other Unspeakables. 

A somewhat throwaway comment once made by Albus Dumbledore at the entrance to a dark cave many years ago filtered through his brain. 

“I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.”

A dry humourless chuckle escaped Harry’s lips. Of course. 

He couldn’t help but feel stupid to think that his 16-year old self had taken this to mean that the old Headmaster was simply much more powerful than he, Harry was. Though many had believed unflinchingly in Dumbledore’s “greatness”. 

It hadn’t brought him much comfort over the last few years to understand what had happened to him. The Head Goblin of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, Gnarwick, had contacted Harry shortly after both Wizarding and Goblin societies had begun to recover from the untold amount of damage dealt to their governing systems during both wars. 

Having negotiated the recompense for damages dealt to the bank and the Goblin nation with Harry, Head Goblin Gnarwick had seemingly decided that although he and his people could not allow the public to know just why the Golden Trio had broken into the bank, there could still be a reward for ridding them of such a foul soul container. 

Gnarwick had offered Harry the blood certification testing.

Several drops of blood spilled onto parchment offered by the Goblin had spread to form words. An accounting of Harry’s lineage, hereditary peerage, property ownership, and soul magics appeared before both their disbelieving eyes.

Harry had sat before Gnarwick in shock for some time after reading a description that revealed that there had been ritual suppression magic performed on his 1-year old body. Harry had since come to learn that it was an ancient ritual, formed to assist those who had unfortunately lost their minds due to torture. It suppressed the natural magic contained within the person to what was usually around half. 

Luckily for Harry, although he had grown up with suppressed magic, magic that requires magical power from the soul was unaffected. Hence his ability to cast the Patronus Charm at such a young age. Though of course the hours spent practicing with Remus had certainly helped.

For a sum of 1000 Galleons, Gnarwick offered Harry the chance to track the magical signature on the suppression spell, and to finally remove the binding.

It had taken Harry some years to finally grasp the extent of the magical power that had been released that day. It also took him just as many years to stop accidentally over-powering spells. Harry winced when he remembered the day he had tried to Accio his glasses and ended up with part of the frame stuck in his cheekbone.

All the power in the world wouldn’t have helped when the Werewolf pack previously led by Greyback had kidnapped Ginny and the kids while Harry was taking his entrance exams to the Auror Office. 

There hadn’t been much left to rescue.

It had been a long con. Aydan Ferdinand had been arrested shortly after Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt had conducted an internal investigation into the Auror Office.

It slowly came to light that there had been Voldemort supporters in practically every Ministry department. They had been removing muggleborns from their parents, whose memories were altered. The years it took to make sure there were none left weren’t the same as the years of either wars, it was more like what Hermione had termed a ‘Cold War’.

Even the Wizengamot was not spared. Many of the family houses had never openly declared for the most recent Dark Lord. But the ideas were still there. Many believed that Tom Riddle had shown the right path to take with Muggleborns.

A new section of the Department of Mysteries was formed. The Office of Mind Arts vetted each Ministry employee to ensure that any whose ideological bias was influencing their political decisions would have to declare them.

The fate of the Muggleborn children was not one that the Daily Prophet was ever allowed to report due to the monstrosity of it. 

Harry Potter did not become an Auror.

His newfound magical ability may have saved his sanity, as he poured all his grief into wanting revenge on those who had infiltrated the Ministry. The Office of Mind Arts offered Harry the opportunity to focus that desire. As a side effect of finally mastering Occlumency, Harry had been able to move on eventually.

The population of Wizarding Britain became smaller and smaller, with the loss of so many Muggleborn children. The fear of being targeted by the Dark Factions that this created in both the children and the parents caused what had been named the end of Hogwarts. One of the surviving children had returned to Hogwarts barely clinging to life. 

The sheer amount of physical and psychological abuse she had faced from fearful guardians had led to the Wizarding World’s ultimate disgrace. An Obscurus formed, ravaging the halls of Hogwarts. Most of the students and two Professors were killed in the ensuing destruction.

One of Ron’s old partners at the Auror Office had become an Unspeakable. Grim Fawley’s research into time magics had unsurfaced old scrolls that had been spelled to become visible after a certain amount of years. It appeared that Gellert Grindelwald had spent the majority of his years in Nurmengard reflecting upon his own actions, and strategising about what was most likely to occur with the defeat of Voldemort. 

Shortly before his death at Voldemort’s wand, Grindelwald had used the last of his influence to ensure that the scrolls would be planted within the Department of Mysteries. 

Harry had learned then, that the final outcome of the battle with Voldemort had not only been the plan of Albus Dumbledore. No, Albus Dumbledore had believed that Harry’s ultimate sacrifice as a Horcrux would have been enough of a win, allowing another to defeat Tom Riddle. It had been Grindelwald who had seen the potential in Harry as Master of Death. In the intervening years, Harry, Ron and Hermione had all come to realise just how much coincidence went into the final plan to keep Harry alive by becoming Master of Death. It had begun to make sense that it was in fact a final hail Mary thrown to the winds of fate by none other than Gellert Grindelwald. His refusal to tell Voldemort about the Elder Wand made even more sense.

As a member of the Office of Mind Arts, Harry began collecting memories. Just as Albus Dumbledore had formed a collection of memories about Tom Riddle’s life, Harry formed a collection of memories about the war, Dumbledore, and the Ministry. He interviewed countless people to get their recollection of events during both Wizarding wars. 

Part of the information contained in the scrolls was a ritual designed to latch memories onto one’s soul. This had originally been part of a dark ritual by Herpo the Foul, designed to produce the perfect body for possession by a spirit such as the one that Voldemort had become after his defeat at Godric’s Hollow due to the Horcruxes.

With the help of the other Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries Harry had finally crafted a ritual that used the dark ritual as a base but would allow him to recall every moment of his life at any given time in history.

Once again Harry had become the focus of a plot.

This time, it was one of his own design. He and the Unspeakables from each office had formed a plan to save Wizarding Britain. Those who worked in the Time Chamber had continued to study time, even after what had happened to Eloise Mintumble. Although the public had believed the study to be discontinued, it had been decided in recent years that there was less to risk.

It was time to return Harry to the beginning of the end.


	2. Refiltering Time

Harry entered the Time Chamber. Pillars with various runes surrounded a stone plinth in the centre of the circular room. People in dark hooded robes circled the plinth. They made way for Harry as he ascended, allowing him entrance. Modified Saxon runes covered the shallow bowl that sat atop the Plinth. Minerva had allowed them the use of the Hogwarts Pensieve after much negotiation, especially with the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses who represented Hogwarts.

Dumbledore had shared with Grindelwald the details of the Regeneration Potion that Voldemort had used to return to bodily form in Harry’s fourth year. Hermione had argued ceaselessly over the worry that using Dark Magic would affect Harry’s ability to cast soul magic, but she couldn’t deny the necessity of changing things. Even her Arithmancy calculation of the probability that Wizarding Britain would survive was bleak.

The ritual designed to take Harry back had taken elements from that night. It had been decided that Harry, being the epicentre of most events, as well as Master of Death, would be the one to return. Fiery sparks flew from the centre of the shallow bowl that contained both memories and potion.

Smiling grimly, Harry lifted his wand and made a deep incision in the centre of his forearm, exposing muscle, and bone. 

“Perforo.” 

Harry screamed and dropped his wand as a hole appeared in the bone of his forearm. Unnoticed by him, but keenly watched by the other Unspeakables, was the circular mass of bone that dropped to the floor of the Time Chamber. 

Panting heavily, Harry summoned his wand. His green eyes, clouded with pain, focused on the mass of bone. Harry levitated it into the Pensieve. The liquid turned a bright light blue, the colour reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore’s eyes.

The next step had a sense of rightness about it, in Harry’s view. He had insisted on using a targeted Sectumsempra, believing that its creator would note the significance, even in death. Thrusting his other arm over the Pensieve, Harry shakily whispered the incantation.

“Sectumsempra.” 

A scoop of flesh from Harry’s forearm fell into the liquids that filled the Pensieve with a muted splash. The colour of it changed to a deep red.

The circle of Unspeakables tightened, ready for the final step.

Harry’s wand hand shook, and his jaw clenched. Only his determination kept him standing now. Nothing he had ever experienced would compare to this.

“Depletura.”

Blood began gushing from all orifices. Harry’s face went white with the pain. The Unspeakables that surrounded him began guiding the blood into the shallow bowl as Harry’s body crumpled before them. A blinding white steam began to seep from the bowl. A rushing whiteness was the last thing Harry Potter saw before he died, again.

**

Harry woke to a surprising lack of pain. Not quite an absence, but nothing near what he could vaguely recall as the last thing he could remember.

A shrill voice began to filter into Harry’s consciousness.

“Up! Get up! You’re late making breakfast!”

Aunt Petunia rapped sharply on the cupboard door. Harry slowly opened his eyes. Dust floated in the air before him. A small amount of toy soldiers lined a shelf beside him. Harry felt his throat tighten and tears pricked his eyes. His cupboard. It worked.

Harry could feel the loss of sensation within him that signalled what must be the suppression of his magical power. Drawing on his Occlumency training, Harry tried to sort through the emotions rising in him. His memories were slightly muted, which worried Harry. But there was nothing he could do about that until he had the suppression removed and reached a Pensieve.

Lifting his 11-year old body off the mattress Harry knew it would take him a bit of time to get used to being so small once more.

Harry opened the cupboard door and walked into the kitchen gingerly. He quickly realised that he was being observed by his Aunt, whose face had turned into its usual pinched expression. 

“What’s wrong with you? Other than the usual?” Petunia snapped.

Clearing his throat, Harry spoke, “Er… Nothing. Aunt Petunia.”

“Then get to it!” 

Harry spent the morning cooking and cleaning for the Dursley’s. He waited until he was ordered to work in the garden to make his escape. He grinned at the irony of just walking away from number 4 Private Drive.  
Casting a disillusionment charm on himself once he had walked a few streets away, Harry began the journey to the train station. The wandless spell left Harry feeling slightly drained. He couldn’t wait until he had the suppression removed. At least he could cast wandless magic away from the warded property. He had studied the Trace and had found that it was not yet active on a child’s pre-Hogwarts body. Harry had only thought to check once he remembered that Hermione had once bragged about trying a few spells before boarding the Hogwart’s Express. 

Harry took a deep breath as grief arose in him. Everyone he knew was gone. Although it wasn’t all of them that had been taken by death, Harry still felt the loss keenly. This Hermione, and this Ron, and almost everyone else wouldn’t be Harry’s version of them. They had grown too much together through circumstance. Harry doubted that any of his year mates would ever be the same as before.

Harry sat at the bus stop for some time. Having studied the timetable for this time period, Harry knew that the bus to Heathrow would turn up soon. But since he didn’t have any money, his only chance was to board the bus disillusioned behind someone else.

Luckily, a middle-aged woman turned up shortly after. And then a teenaged boy.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wouldn’t have to wait here for too long in the cold. His thin body didn’t provide much heat, he had realised. That was one thing he hadn’t considered. Harry nearly choked on a desperate laugh, trying not to alert the muggles around him.

Soon the bus arrived. Harry quickly followed the teenager. He had plenty of practice following people after spending much of his sixth year at Hogwarts stalking Draco Malfoy. Though he reflected that it was a little bit more complicated in this body, as the teenaged boy glanced behind him briefly.

The bus started off soon after on its way to Heathrow. 

Heathrow was a little more complicated. Harry had to perform a veritable dance to avoid bumping into anyone. A quick hop over the barrier meant that Harry was soon sitting comfortably on the train, where it was much warmer. 

Harry began to Occlude for the duration of the trip to London. He nearly started to fall asleep after the first half hour. He couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty when he realised just how much he was looking forward to living without so much expectation on him, if he pulled this off.

Harry exited the station out into the street. He noticed that he had begun to really appreciate the small things along his journey. Even a small basket of flowers hanging from the streetlamp next to the bus stop was incredibly beautiful to Harry. He realised just how grey the world had begun to seem to him in his later years.

Waiting for the bus to the market area near Diagon Alley, Harry could only hope that he could convince the Goblins to help him.


	3. Take Heed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might have to get a box set of Harry Potter books at this rate! I've only ever owned copies of the last two books, having relied on libraries before the pandemic. This chapter was possible with the help of one of the lovely members of an AO3 Facebook group who sent me images of the pages where Harry first experienced Gringotts. My thanks go to her!
> 
> And of course, I own nothing.

Harry hurried from the last bus down the street to the oldest pub in London, situated on Charing Cross Road. The Leaky Cauldron was still dark and shabby in this time. Harry paused on the pavement. After the war Hannah Abbott had become the new landlady, and done a lot of work on the pub. It was sad yet nostalgic to see it once more as how Harry had known it in his youth. 

Harry waited on the pavement in front of the record shop next to the pub for some minutes, having decided to follow other patrons inside. It wouldn’t do for any of the regulars to recognise him if he were to drop the disillusionment. And Harry had never been the best at wandless human transfiguration. 

Quickly following a short, shabby witch into the pub, Harry’s eyes darted around the interior of the pub. There was no one here he recognised. A few old men sat at the bar, one smoking a pipe. Behind the bar was Tom, the current landlord. Harry was pleased to see that Tom was occupied as one of the older men ordered a Beetle Berry Whiskey. The short witch that Harry had followed into the pub was making her way to the backyard after a quick greeting to some of the patrons. 

In the backyard of the pub, the witch and Harry stood before a brick wall. Harry breathed slowly, trying not to draw attention at this very last step. Merlin forbid he stumble into the dustbin or something else reminiscent of Tonks and get noticed. The witch tapped the correct brick with her somewhat long wand. A small hole in the wall formed at first, then shifted into the familiar archway. 

Harry assessed the state of the alley beyond. There were wizards and witches bustling around, children running to and fro. Making a swift decision, Harry ended the disillusionment just as he passed through the archway. A quick step to the side of the archway meant that Harry appeared to be coming past from the side of the witch. Practically running past her into the alley proper just as the other children were doing, Harry grinned wryly as he thought once more about how useful his small size could be. 

He hoped his clothes didn’t stand out too much but reflected that at least the ill-fitting and baggy nature of them would make him simply seem like a young wizard who had been attempting to dress like a muggle. 

There were no Ministry posters now. No windows boarded up. Diagon Alley had been trying to bring itself back to life in Harry’s time but the sheer amount of energy flowing through the street now was almost enough to slow Harry down as he headed to Gringotts. 

The tall building was a refreshing sight. The glossy bronze doors were flanked by two goblins outfitted in a scarlet and gold uniform. Both were bearded, Harry noticed, as they simultaneously bowed as he entered the outer door. Slowing his pace as he reached the second set of doors, Harry wryly reflected upon the words engraved into the silver. 

“Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.” 

Unbidden, a smirk played along Harry’s lips. 

“Yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it.” Harry muttered to himself, imitating the old groundskeeper, feeling nostalgia swoop upon him like a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Harry shook himself back into focus by giving the pair of goblins beside the silver doors a nod, at which they bowed him through into the expansive marble hall. 

Harry spied a free goblin amongst the many that lined the counter who were occupied by various tasks. 

“Hail and well met.” Harry greeted the sharp-faced goblin before him. The goblin tilted his head to one side before responding in kind. 

Harry continued, “I would request assistance with my accounts here at Gringotts, having recently returned to the Wizarding World after... Some time.” 

“You wish to see an accounts manager, sir?” 

Harry replied with an affirmative and another goblin was summoned to the counter. Harry had to draw upon the forced calm of occlumency when he recognised a comparably younger Gnarwick. He wasn’t sure if it was coincidence, fate, or simply the importance of his accounts that had prompted the summoning of the Head Goblin himself, but it wouldn’t do for Harry to show recognition now before being able to explain his... Story? Past? Future? 

Following Gnarwick through one of the larger doors leading out from the marble hall, Harry began to slowly sort through the more important memories he had brought to the forefront of his mind in preparation for the coming discussion. 

“Please, sit.” Gnarwick gestured roughly at the larger wooden chair. Gnarwick sat behind the wrought iron desk, steepling his long fingers. 

“Hail and well met, Gnarwick, he who is Head Goblin of Gringotts for many years past and to come.” Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the goblin that he so respected in the old timeline. 

“Hail and well met, Mr Potter. How is it that you know of me, young wizard?” Gnarwick tilted his head in a similar manner as the first goblin that Harry had greeted earlier. 

“I have come a long way to see you Gnarwick, and I’m not sure that my own words will be enough to describe just how far. If you would care to ascertain that I have no wand, I would offer you the knowledge of how to prevent a danger that Gringotts faces in the near future.” Harry spoke imperiously, knowing of the pride that the goblins have in Gringotts. 

Gnarwick narrowed his black eyes at Harry as he spoke. Lifting two long fingers to point at Harry, Gnarwick performed a quick summoning gesture. 

Leaning back, Gnarwick considered the child before him. 

“Well. As you do indeed seem to have visited with us without bearing a wand but with knowledge not expected of you, I would ask, in which manner will you offer this information?” 

“Legilimency.” 

Harry had to stifle an inappropriate chuckle at the Head Goblin’s perplexed expression. 

“Very well. Are you aware of the differences between the art of Legilimency as performed by wizards, and the mind walking performed by goblins?” 

Harry nodded firmly. 

“Steel yourself.”


	4. A Wolf and a Cup

Harry collected the relevant memories of the previous timeline together in a swirl at the forefront of his mind. There was only one piece of information missing.

“One moment. I need to ask you, what exactly is the current date?”

Gnarwick’s gaze sharpened and spoke slowly, “It is currently the 14th day of the month of July, in the year 1991.”

“I see. Please, continue.”

Images began to flash within Harry’s mind. His attempts to direct the Head Goblin were more painful than he had expected, but he slowly brought forth memories. The front page of The Daily Prophet issue that reported on the Gringotts break in of 1991 faded in and out. A golden cup engraved with the image of a badger. Another front page of the Prophet, showing a screaming Bellatrix with the headline: MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN! The skeletal form of Voldemort, rising from the cauldron. Finally, the results of the blood certification test performed by Gnarwick himself.

Gnarwick felt himself pushed back out of the boy’s, no, the man’s mind with a lurch. A soft groan had the goblin glancing up at The Boy Who Lived. A headache had started to bloom at the base of the goblin’s large skull.

Both goblin and human sat in their respective chairs for some time, processing the information and recovering.

“You… You have indeed come a long way, Mr Potter.”

Unclenching his jaw slowly, Harry looked over at Gnarwick, who was staring at Harry with the same piercing gaze oft employed by Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry scoffed slightly and nodded.

“What price would you name for this information?” Gnarwick curled his long fingers around a quill.

“Honestly, right now all I want is the removal of the effects of the suppression ritual and perhaps some healing. But I can’t say that I won’t ask for more later. I have much more information that I know Gringotts could use. Maybe even sporting event results…” A smirk graced Harry’s face as he dangled the opportunity before the Head Goblin.

“Perhaps for now you could clarify the importance of the golden cup. It appears that it may be a relic of Helga Hufflepuff?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he steepled his fingers.

“What do you know of horcruxes?”

****

Remus Lupin sat at a small table in an old café in Covent Garden. Light brown hair that was flecked with grey fell over a portion of the man’s tired face. His muggle suit was shabby, but July was a good time to be going about the muggle world lacking a warming cloak. Remus’ sunken eyes travelled over the bookshelf that sat above the banquette seating at the back of the café as he nursed the cup of coffee before him. On the left of the table sat a pile of muggle paper – a basic curriculum vitae.

Remus had been attempting to sell his skills at various muggle establishments all morning. The spotty nature of his history due to his attempts at living in the wizarding world combined with multiple short-term positions due to his… illness was not helping his endeavour.

With a low sigh, Remus lowered his gaze to the cup sitting between his hands. With a start, and a quick glance around the café, Remus noticed a letter sitting on top of his pile of paper. The envelope was crafted with parchment. The werewolf frowned as he saw his own name written in a sharp hand on the front of the envelope. Remus lifted the pile of paper, with the envelope sitting on top. He used the papers to flip the envelope back onto the table, mindful of curses yet not able to simply use his wand.

Remus took in a shaky breath as he read what was written on the other side.

**Harry Potter**  
**C/O**  
**Gringotts Wizarding Bank**  
**Diagon Alley**

Remus stared at the envelope, his posture becoming rigid. The steam rising from the cup of coffee slowly dissipated. Remus Lupin had not had many opportunities to observe the Gringotts seal in the past, but he recognised it now.

He broke the seal gently, lifting the envelope and pulling the parchment within out.

_Dear Moony,_

_I’m sure this letter has come as an impossible surprise to you. I can only hope that you do read it, given its similarly surprising delivery._

_I believe that you know that I was placed with my Aunt and Uncle upon my parent’s deaths. Unfortunately, it has become unsafe for me to continue to stay there. I have been made aware that the Headmaster has known of the conditions that I lived under due to the placement of a squib in my previous neighbourhood._

_The Head Goblin of Gringotts has agreed to assist me in gaining a safer home in return for certain information that I hold. Hence the delivery of this letter._

_I would very much like to meet with you here at Gringotts to explain how I know of you, Moony. I look forward to telling you of my adventures._

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, and I hope that you can help me manage the mischief caused by certain parties._

_Harry James Potter_

****

Harry Potter stood in a stone walled room that was lit by multiple candle sconces. Heat with no source filled the room and sweat dripped down Harry’s youthful face. Blackness oozed from the golden cup that lay on the floor, covered in soot.

A small wave of water burst forth from Harry’s fingertips, surging around the cup before dissipating into steam. An exhausted yet pleased grin lifted his lips as he bent to pick up the intact golden cup. The door behind him opened, and he heard Gnarwick’s deep voice.

“Were you able to modulate the curse?”

Harry turned, and gestured with the cup wryly. Gnarwick bared his teeth in a grin as he took the cup from the other.

“A positive outcome. I am pleased that Gringotts is no longer playing host to such foulness. I am sure you are glad to have full use of your magic once more. I will have one of the Curse-Breaker teams check it over for residue other than what is left after your Fiendfyre.”

The Head Goblin gestured with his other hand and the cup disappeared.

Harry suddenly snickered, “Too bad Bill would be in Egypt right now. I’d love to see his reaction to Hufflepuff’s cup showing up on his work list.”

Gnarwick led Harry back down the hall to one of the living chambers.

“Would that be William Weasley?”

Harry nodded, flopping onto one of the chaise lounges.

“I hear he had a successful run-in with a mummy not long ago. I believe Stormrack has begun assigning Weasley various missions outside of Egypt as well.”

“Oh well I guess there’s still some things that I don’t know” Harry said, with emphasis on ‘some’.

“I shall leave you to ready yourself for your visit with Mr Lupin. I would appreciate your discreetness regarding future financial outcomes until we ascertain his response to your situation.” Gnarwick crossed the room to another door.

Harry waved one hand dismissively as he responded, “Of course. It might take a while though. Poor Moony is going to be so confused…” Harry snickered and lay back on the lounge, readying himself for meeting a relatively younger Moony.


	5. A Story and a Plan

Remus Lupin held tight to the cypress wand in his pocket as he hurried through Diagon Alley. He slowed as he reached the tall white façade of Gringotts. Glancing worriedly at the Gringotts goblins at either side of the entrance, Remus steeled himself and entered. His tired eyes swept along the counters, behind which sat goblins busy at work weighing and counting what was likely more gold than the werewolf had ever seen in his life.

A young voice rang out, “Moony! Quit dithering in the doorway and come have a chat!”

His gaze snapped to the small black-haired boy standing casually in a molded archway. “Harry…”

The smirk that graced the boy’s face was decidedly mischievous. The same smirk that Moony had seen on James’ face for all those years at Hogwarts. But maybe with a little touch of the sheer joy that he had once seen on Lily’s…

“Not here Moony, we need to have a chat about marauder business.” Harry, for he must be Harry, gestured authoritatively for Remus to follow him down the hall and turned around the corner. All thoughts of trouble seceded to the back of his mind, only to be replaced by confusion.

Remus ran a hand through his light brown hair and glanced around at rows of goblins before hurrying down the hallway after Harry. An antechamber opened at the end of the hall, where Harry was already seated on a chaise lounge.

“Take a seat. Would you like any refreshments? I’m sure Bogrod would oblige.” Harry gestured to a goblin that Remus had not yet noticed off to the side of the chamber.

Remus opened his mouth, but nothing came out. A glass of water appeared on the low set table between the two lounges. Remus took the glass with a shaking hand and sat.

Hoarsely, Remus spoke, “Harry… What is going on? How do you re... Know me? Why are you in Gringotts? What happened with your family? Are you okay?” The smirk was back, with only a flicker when Remus had mentioned family. His tired eyes narrowed.

“It’s nice to see you again Moony. Please don’t interrupt. I have a long story to tell you, and most of it will seem insane.” Here, Harry paused and gestured to the goblin whose name Remus had already forgotten. A plate of biscuits appeared. Harry grinned at Remus.

“Have a biscuit Moony.” Harry looked strangely pleased with himself. Remus glanced at the goblin who was by all appearances acting as a servant. The older man frowned.

“Now how do I start? I’ve asked that of myself again and again yet never found an answer. Let’s do this chronologically, which you’ll find is ironic.” Remus blinked and raised his eyebrows as Harry spoke so maturely for his age.

“Again, I must ask you not to interrupt.” Harry’s piercing green eyes stared at Remus as if willing him to listen.

“1980. A prophecy was made in the Hog’s Head Pub, with two witnesses. One, Albus Dumbledore. Two, Severus Snape. As a result, Lily and James Potter went into hiding. Severus Snape told Voldemort the first half of the prophecy for he had heard no more than that. Of course, you and I both know what happened next. Voldemort killed Lily and James. But! Here’s the thing. Snape had asked Voldemort to spare Lily, his childhood friend.” At this, Remus frowned. Harry continued with no acknowledgement of Remus’ reaction.

“Voldemort told mum to stand aside. And because she was given the option to live yet refused to let Voldemort kill me by sacrificing herself… I was given blood protection. That’s how I survived the Killing Curse which rebounded upon Voldemort. Unfortunately, I was left with a little more than just blood protection. A part of Voldemort’s unstable soul latched onto the only viable… Er… Container. Me.”

“Harry…”

“Not pleasant, I know. Now here’s where it starts to get confusing. I was sent to live with my muggle Aunt and Uncle because of the blood protection. Moony… They kept me in a cupboard. Their son’s favourite sport was Harry Hunting. To them, I was nothing more than ‘freak’ or ‘boy’. Not the best upbringing.” Moony’s mouth hung open indignantly.

Harry nibbled on a biscuit.

“On July 31st 1991 Rubeus Hagrid knocked down the door to the lighthouse my uncle had dragged me to in order to avoid the Hogwarts owls and told me ‘yer a wizard Harry’. You might realise now that I’m working with two different timelines here since it is only July 1991. I have knowledge that is almost unexplainable.”

Remus took a sip of water reflexively and cleared his throat before speaking, “You… You’ve travelled in time? How?”

“A ritual created by the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries many years from now. It required a lot of hard work and sacrifice to do it without resorting to true Dark Arts. I won’t go into too many details in case I upset the timeline but the essential things you should know would be that Voldemort returned… er… Will… Uh, might return between the years of 1994 and 1995.” Harry chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it spiked in the same way that James used to wear his. Harry’s face grew grave.

“I won’t lie to you Moony, the toll was far too great in the war that followed. Do you know what an Obscurus is? Yes, Voldemort’s regime against muggleborns led to sheer destruction and annihilation. The poor girl.” Harry trailed off.

Remus suddenly realised he had been grasping the cup of water tightly for many minutes and placed it carefully on the table.

“So you’ve come back to prevent it? Why are you telling me, and not Dumbledore?”

Harry sat back on the chaise.

“I told you that I was placed with my muggle family and all that entailed. But what I didn’t realise until later in life was that the nice muggle neighbour I visited often to escape what was essentially abuse was in fact a squib. Arabella Figg. You know of her, of course. You see, Dumbledore had placed her there in the street to keep an eye on me and report my upbringing to him. I spoke to his portrait years after his death and he admitted that he knew what was happening to me. It was all for the greater good, he assured me.”

Remus stood violently and gesticulated madly. “Greater good?! What greater good could come from leaving James and Lily’s son in an abusive household?” He started to pace restlessly around the chamber, ignoring the goblin. “I knew I should have checked on you as you grew up but I just… I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay Moony. It’s in the past now, in more ways than one.” A wry smile lifted Harry’s expression. “Basically my plan at this moment revolves around you, actually.” Harry stood and approached Moony until he stood directly in front of him.

“Me? What could I do?” Remus looked down at the black-haired boy in ragged clothes three sizes too big for his thin frame who stood with such unexpected confidence before him.

“You’re going to adopt me.”


End file.
